In the extensive coverage of this year’s July 4 celebrations in Washington, DC, it was often mentioned that 850,000 fireworks were detonated in the course of the evening. In fact, there were 850,001. For in addition to the extraordinary visual panoply on view there was a quieter but no less breathtaking detonation that day: the sobering 162-page report about the Smithsonian Institution issued by the White House’s Domestic Policy Council.
The last time Republicans were this mad at the Smithsonian Institution was in 1991. Then as now, America’s national museum system was gearing up to celebrate a major date: in that case, the quincentenary of the discovery of the Americas by Christopher Columbus. Senators threatened spending cuts, accusing Smithsonian officials of having a “political agenda” with their representations of race and immigration in exhibitions. Thirty-four years later, on the eve of the semiquincentennial of the Declaration of Independence, Republicans are saying the same things. Donald Trump reworded his predecessors’ criticisms in his own style, suggesting on Truth Social that the Smithsonian museums focus too much on the negative, too little on the positive.
It starts with the promise of skipping school — always an illicit thrill at nine years old. My son and I, seasoned truants, hop the early train to downtown Chicago for what I’ve convinced him is a real education. The day’s agenda: two of the city’s iconic museums — grand, intimidating and, up until recently, somewhat sacred. These sprawling neoclassical behemoths, both originally constructed for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, dot the waterfront like ancient ruins. They once felt like temples to knowledge, where wonder and learning collided, where static displays ignited curiosity. But as we step inside, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, their magic has faded. Can museums as we know them survive my lifetime?
